


Doing it properly

by hippocrates460



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, M/M, Soft Smut Sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocrates460/pseuds/hippocrates460
Summary: After a horrendous and tedious week of taming politicians, Mycroft is home.





	Doing it properly

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Darlin'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753679) by [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/pseuds/Mottlemoth). 



> Inspired by [Darlin'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753679) because <3

When Mycroft comes back to London, he tells the driver to take him to Greg's apartment. It's late, he might not even be home, but there is only one thing Mycroft wants right now. He expects the flat to be dark and quiet and maybe just a little dusty. Greg did say he'd be working a lot this week and when they texted, he'd seemed busy.

The flat is shiny and clean, though, and it smells like fresh laundry and lavender and maybe apple pie. Cinnamon. He takes off his shoes and walks through quietly, peeking around corners and into rooms. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen. Not in the bedroom either, even though it’s four in the morning. He creaks the bathroom door open as slowly as possible and leans against the frame for what feels like too long, his chest hurts at the sight.

“Didn’t think you’d be home tonight,” Greg says, without opening his eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to be, but we resolved the issue so I caught the first flight out.”

“Join me, you must smell like plane,” Greg opens an eye and smiles tiredly at Mycroft. He’s so beautiful, even with deep bags under his eyes. Even exhausted and wet and dishevelled.

Mycroft takes off his clothes and puts them away, wool on a hanger, the rest in the basket. He slips in next to Greg, grateful once again that tiny as Greg's apartment is, it at least has  _comforts_.

“Why the candles? Why the bath?” Mycroft whispers against Greg’s chest when he’s been wrapped up in strong warm arms.

“Long day, haven’t been sleeping. Turns out that a month with you was enough to be unable to sleep without you. Even breaking into your apartment didn’t help.”

Mycroft turns to sit on Greg’s lap and kisses him deeply. The bathwater sloshes dangerously but it doesn’t overflow.

“It’s not breaking in when I want you there. I gave you that key.”

“That you did but I doubt you expected me to steal your pillow when you did,” Greg mumbles against Mycroft’s lips. Mycroft laughs softly. Gentle hands travel up and down Mycroft’s back.

“Apologies,” Mycroft says softly, suppressing a shiver that has him bumping into Greg. It’s always strange to be touched again after going without for a while.

Greg hums, “don’t be. Can I?” He lets his hands trail lower and Mycroft nods. He sits up to lean over so he can reach the lube they keep stashed all over their apartments now. To be in the kind of relationship where that is necessary, Mycroft thinks, handing it over to Greg and sitting up so it doesn’t wash away before it gets where it needs to go.

Greg holds him still with one hand on his hip, using two slick fingers to gently get Mycroft’s skin used to the sensation. Being touched. Mycroft lets his head hang back and Greg uses the opportunity to kiss wherever he can reach. Stomach, chest, light fluttering things. Mycroft’s hands tighten on Greg’s shoulders when he’s breached by one fingertip, then another.

“Alright?”

Mycroft hums and nods, “missed you.”

“And I you,” Greg grins up at him, the look in his eyes making something shift in Mycroft’s chest.

They breathe together, Greg takes his time, slowly working his fingers in deeper and deeper while Mycroft gets so hard it hurts. He’s panting a little, his thigh muscles are twitching, he fights down unattractive facial expressions by focusing on a spot on the ceiling. Lets his hands travel across Greg's shoulders and neck.

“Let me hear you, gorgeous,” Greg urges, “come on, love.”

A third finger and Mycroft lets out a low moan, wraps his arms around Greg’s neck and urges him on. “Now, come on, please, now.”

Greg slides right in, the heat from the bathwater, the slow attention, more than enough to relax Mycroft all the way. They sit still together for a moment while Mycroft’s body adjusts.

“Good thing you bought that expensive lube,” Greg kisses Mycroft happily, like he’s been wanting to all week.

“Marry me, move in with me,” says Mycroft, looking Greg straight in his chocolate eyes. Those eyelashes should be illegal. When Greg’s eyes open wide and his mouth falls open, Mycroft realizes that he said that. That he meant it. That Greg knows now.

“Yes, yes of course,” Greg whispers, his hands shaking as he grabs Mycroft’s face to kiss him soundly.

Mycroft laughs awkwardly, “I made a reservation... At a restaurant, I was going to...”

A happy bright smile comes back, twinkling eyes, “oh, sweetheart, no one ever needs to know. I’ll pretend to be surprised, I promise. I won’t tell anyone that you didn’t do it properly at first.”

Mycroft pets the dear silver hair, blinks away the emotion, kisses Greg’s nose and forehead. “Please, lets move.”

Laughing together, they fall into a rhythm, familiar and gentle. Slow enough to keep the water in the tub, deep enough to feel it everywhere. When Greg is close his mouth does a thing, a little twitch in the corner, then he pushes out the middle of his top lip. Like clockwork, every time. Greg knows it’s coming too and wraps a hand around Mycroft, holding tight to create pressure where they slide and move together. Mycroft rests his head on Greg’s shoulder and tries to stop himself from biting down. He lets his hands travel up Greg’s chest to touch his nipples, pulling hard and sitting up at the same time. He loves watching it all play out on Greg’s face, need, urgency, then relief and bliss. Feeling it deep inside himself, Greg’s fingers twitching on his thigh, the other hand still around his aching cock, it only takes a few snapping hip movements for Mycroft to come too.

Happy liquid eyes crinkle at the corners and meet Mycroft’s as they untangle fingers, stretch out calves and toes. The water is tepid at best by now.

“Rinse off in the shower?” Greg suggests.

Mycroft nods slowly, it’s going to be awful to stand up, he already pities his knees. “Do you think you might be able to sleep after this?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Greg laughs, “you’ll be there, I’m sure I’ll sleep just fine.”


End file.
